The Cost of Christmas Secrets
by DaughterOfAres
Summary: A possible look at what might have happened if Sharon had found out Jack was drinking when her children were home for Christmas in the season three episode Chain Reaction.


**I'd like to call this an episode tag. But it's not.**

 **It is, however, a birthday present for Rosabelle.**

 **HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROSABELLE!**

 ***throws confetti in the air and does the birthday dance***

 **This is completely AU. Okay, not completely. We'll call it a "what-if" scenario. This is a possible look at what could have happened if Sharon had found out Jack was drinking when her children were home for Christmas in the season three episode Chain Reaction.**

* * *

 **The Cost of Christmas Secrets**

Anyone could see that Sharon Raydor was clearly enjoying herself. Emily was sure her mother hadn't stopped grinning since the Christmas party they'd brought to the break room of the police station. In fact, Emily wouldn't have been surprised to find out her mother had smiled through all the paperwork that she had to do before leaving, while she and her brothers had cleaned up from the party.

Grudgingly, Emily had to give Ricky some credit. He had a good idea occasionally. Though not always a complete one. He hadn't thought through the cleaning up and bringing all the stuff home part. Rusty, at least, knew where the LAPD kept their equipment for moving evidence that couldn't be put into a single box. That helped them get the things to the car at least.

Up to their mother's condo was a different story. Ricky and Rusty had spent a good ten minutes arguing about the best way to move the boxes of bowls, pans, dishes, and decorations (namely the Christmas Village) with the fewest trips. Meanwhile, she watched her mom sort the boxes before distributing them between her children. They were then informed they could leave the rest until morning and ordered to the elevator.

 _Mom…_

As exasperating as her mother could be, Emily enjoyed seeing her spend the entire night with a smile. And sometimes, Emily noticed, the smile would land on her, and her mother's eyes would get just a little wet, and the smile would grow just a little more. Emily knew her mother was happy for her. And proud. She'd known before tonight, of course. But the news she'd recently shared about becoming a soloist had given her mom something new to be proud of.

Emily watched as her mother- who took a moment to give her another proud smile- gracefully maneuvered the two bags of leftovers she was carrying to one arm before unlocking the door. Ricky and Rusty were still arguing if they should get the rest of the stuff tonight or in the morning.

 _Brothers.._.

Her mother stepped through the door.

Emily followed half a step behind, eager to set the small box of plastic-ware and dishes down.

Ricky and Rusty were right behind her. Still bickering.

She heard her mother's quiet, almost wispy, voice even over their arguing.

"Jack."

Apparently, her brothers heard it too, because there was instant silence.

Or maybe they had seen it.

Her father was sitting in the rotating living room chair closest to the door. He had it turned so he could face the entrance and was gently moving it back and forth. Near his feet was an empty bottle of wine. There was another one, nearly empty, on the coffee table next to a wine glass.

"Sharon!" He started to get up, but his sudden desire to move quickly caused him to lose his balance. He ended up back in the chair with a grunt. "Damn chair. Why'd you get these things, anyway?" He huffed, shaking his head. "They don't even match."

"Jack, what are you doing here?" Her mother's voice was no longer the breathless whisper it had been seconds ago. It had taken on a much sterner, angrier, quality that Emily found far more comforting under the circumstances.

Her father rolled his eyes. "It's Christmas, Sharon. Where else would I be except with my family?"

Her mother's breathing was quicker, Emily noticed. As she glanced quickly over her shoulder, her eyes landing on each of her children briefly before she placed the bags of leftovers on the floor against the wall. As her mom stepped closer to her dad, Emily became aware of the knot in her stomach. There was a horribly uncomfortable feeling flooding her head and chest. Her throat was tight. She didn't know what to do, but she certainly didn't want to watch whatever was about to happen.

She remembered only ever seeing one real fight between her parents. She didn't know what started it. Ricky couldn't have been more than three, and she had been asleep when her parents' raised voices had woken her up. She'd tried ignoring it. She covered her head with her pillow and closed her eyes as though doing that could block out the horrible sounds coming through the wall. When she started to cry, though, she'd gotten up so she could go to her mom. Like she always did when she cried. But her mom had been yelling at her dad when she'd come down the hall, and she'd heard her mom telling him to leave. But her dad had only just come back after being away. Emily remembered being heartbroken and angry at the same time, and she'd yelled at her mom before running into her dad's arms. He'd scooped her up and held her close.

He'd left two months later, and Emily had blamed her mother, solely, for it.

Twenty years later, Emily wondered how much her own actions had contributed to her mother's choices over the years.

"You need to leave, Jack." Her mother's hands came to her hips, and even from behind Emily could see the anger radiating from her mother. The muscles in her neck and shoulders were tight, and her legs were locked into place.

Her dad seemed oblivious to her mom's anger. "But, Sharon, you guys just got here! It's Christmas!"

"I'll call you a cab, but you need to go."

Emily wondered how her mom kept her voice so even.

Her dad groaned and leaned his head back. "I brought presents. Look!"

Emily looked. There was a new pile of gifts tucked under the tree. When her eyes turned back to her mother, she was shaking her head.

"Oh, come on, Shar-RON. You used to ask me to come home for Christmas all the time. Well, I'm here now, and you're sending me away!"

Emily had no idea how she could feel any worse. She would rather be anywhere else in the world right now. Then her mother glanced back at her children. Emily met her mother's eyes-that minutes before had been filled with pride-which were now a study in despondency. She wasn't sure if she wanted to cry or run out the door. She did neither and remained frozen in place as her arms tightened around the box in her arms.

Her mother turned back to her father. She offered him a hand and spoke in a quietly resigned tone. "We'll go downstairs and talk. Please, Jack..."

Emily wondered if it was the plea in her mom's last couple of words that prompted her father to take his ex-wife's hand or something that her father saw in her mom's eyes despite him being drunk. She glanced back to her brothers who stood, still holding their boxes, with wide eyes that watched their mother's every move. She turn back in time to see her father place a kiss on the hand he was holding.

She'd seen her father do that a hundred times before and had never felt revolted by it until now.

"I'm sorry, Sharon."

"Let's go, Jack."

Emily watch as her mother helped her father stand and maneuvered him towards the door. She quickly stepped out of the way, as did Ricky, while Rusty managed to hold his box with one arm and open the door for their mother.

* * *

Emily put the box she was holding on the bar before sitting at the head of the table. She heard her brothers moving around as well before they joined her: Ricky to her left, and Rusty next to him. She wondered briefly if Ricky knew just how much Rusty looked up to him. She doubted Rusty even realized it.

"So," Rusty was the first to speak, "how'd your plan to keep Jack's drinking from Sharon work out?"

"Shut up, little brother," Ricky replied without malice, his voice sounded as dejected as Emily felt.

"Just when I think Christmas can't get any worse." Emily leaned back crossing her arms over her chest.

She regretted the words within seconds of saying them. Rusty tried to hide it, but his already gloomy face fell even more before he took a sudden interest in the table. She was edging closer and closer to tears herself and could only hope he understood that having a new little brother was the only good thing about this Christmas. She wouldn't be able to convince him of that right now.

"What now?" Ricky's elbows were propped up on the table, his fingers interlaced and resting against his chin.

Emily felt her face crumple, but held back her tears. She shook her head.

"Maybe we should go down and wait with Sharon," Rusty suggested, still looking at the table. "In case she needs…help…or something."

"She doesn't need our help," Ricky answered, staring at some point on the wall.

"Rusty," Emily made sure to keep her voice gentle, but it was surprisingly thick to her own ears. She cleared her throat. "Mom doesn't want our help. She'd rather we hadn't been here to see…what we saw."

Ricky leaned back in his chair, but before crossing his arms reached over to ruffle their little brother's hair. "It's okay, Rusty. Mom can take care of herself."

Rusty nodded, but didn't bother to smooth his hair back down.

They sat silently at the table until their mom came back. Emily wasn't sure how long it took. Probably not as long as it felt. Cab drivers were hardly scarce in L.A., and her mom had probably called one while waiting on the elevator.

Emily heard the door open and close. Her mother's keys clinked as they were placed on the small table by the door. Her mom stepped into the dining room soon after.

"Hey," her mom moved to stand between Rusty and Ricky. One hand smoothed Rusty's still rumpled hair down, while the other rubbed Ricky's shoulder. "You okay?"

They were barely done nodding before she moved towards Emily. Her mom tilted her head and tried to smile. Emily doubted the smile she returned looked any less depressing. Her mom's hand trailed from one shoulder to the other as she rounded the table to sit across from Ricky.

"Do you want to share my bed?" her mom was still trying to smile. Emily wished she wouldn't. "Or would you rather make a pallet on the floor somewhere?"

"I'm staying at Dad's." Emily wasn't sure what made her say that.

"I know, honey, but…" Her mother looked down briefly before meeting her eyes once again. "…your father's drinking again…"

As though she hadn't noticed that. "Mom…" Emily didn't know what to say except, "I know." She kept her brown eyes locked with her mom's sad green ones. "I _know."_

She knew the second her mom realized her meaning. Her mother's breath hitched, the forced smile faded, and her eyes were threatening to shed the tears gathering in them. "I see."

Her mother's gaze turned to Ricky and Rusty next. Both were staring at the table refusing to meet her gaze.

"I see." Her mother repeated the phase, and Emily had no doubt that her mother had figured out the entire story. Emily had wanted so badly to ignore her dad's drinking again. Intellectually, she knew that wasn't what she should do. But she couldn't have imagined what pushing it aside until after Christmas would lead to. Now, her mother knew that she'd known about her father's drinking, and hadn't told her.

Her mother stood from the table.

"Mom…" Emily had no idea what else she wanted to say, but stood so she could follow her mother for a few steps. Ricky and Rusty weren't far behind her. But the three siblings didn't move far. They remained standing half way between the table and the couch as they watched their mother retrieve the bags of leftovers she'd left on the floor.

Emily watched her mom move around the condo with determination…or maybe just practice? Put the left overs in the fridge. Pick up the wine glass, and take it to the sink. Throw away the wine bottles. Wipe off the coffee table. Straighten the furniture. Emily could only watch the ritual, and she wondered just how many times her mother had been through this routine with her father. How many times had she cleaned up after him? What had her mother done to keep her and Ricky from seeing as little of it as possible?

How often had she blamed her mom for her dad never being there?

Her mom moved to one of the boxes of pans they'd brought back from the police station. She started removing the dishes they'd hand washed in the break room sink, and placed them in the dishwasher. Once she saw her mother's hand brush across her cheek. The same hand more often would find its way to her forehead to rub above her eyes. Despite that she didn't miss a beat as she cleaned, and re-cleaned, everything she could.

"I'm sorry," Rusty said, causing Emily's head to snap towards the top of his bowed head. He raised it to watch their mother move around the kitchen. "I'm sorry, Sharon…They- _We_ didn't want to ruin Christmas for you."

That made her mother stop. She turned to look searchingly at her youngest. Rusty looked near tears, and he was fidgeting under their mother's gaze. Emily had to look away. This wasn't how Christmas was supposed to be.

"I'm sorry," Rusty repeated.

Ricky cleared his throat and ran a hand over his mouth. His voice was gruff as he put a hand on Rusty's shoulder. "It's not your fault."

That seemed the only amount of speech Ricky could produce. He walked further into the living room to sit on the couch. Emily was sure she heard a sniffle come from him.

Her mother turned her back to them, and leaned against the kitchen counter. Emily could tell by the slight, extended, and rhythmic rise and fall of her mother's shoulders that she was concentrating on breathing. Forcing air to fill her lungs and exhaling ever last drop of air out.

"Emily," Her mother turned around, "I would very much like you to spend tonight here. With us."

Emily opened her mouth to repeat her earlier decision to stay with her father. Though why she was suddenly so determined to stay with him she wasn't sure. Except that he was her _Dad._

"Just for tonight," Her mother didn't give her the opportunity, " _I_ would feel better. Please."

Emily looked away. How could she explain this? He was still her dad. And he'd probably only come over because they'd cut him out of Christmas. He missed his family. That was understandable, right?

The family he'd chosen to spend many Christmases without.

She met her mom's eyes again, and nodded. "Okay. I'll stay tonight."

Her mother's relief was immediate. The tension seemed to drain from her shoulders and arms while her mouth formed a small, sad, smile. "Thank you."

Her mother glanced around the kitchen, briefly, Emily wasn't sure what she was looking for but after a moment moved towards the living room. Her eyes seemed to linger on Rusty. His hands were clenching and re-clenching while his feet tried unsuccessfully to become unglued from the floor. Emily thought he might step forward to hug their mother when she came close enough.

When he didn't, Emily decided that this was easily the most depressing Christmas ever.

"Okay," her mom cleared her throat. "We need to talk about what happened tonight."

Emily felt her shoulders slump, and she looked at the hard wood floors. Having a discussion about addiction with her mother on Christmas was not on her wishlist.

"But not tonight," Her mother continued, forcing a smile. "Tonight, we'll watch a Christmas movie, and open presents. How's that sound?"

Looking up, Emily tried to smile, too, she saw Rusty doing the same.

"Sounds good, Mom," Ricky had turned on the couch so he was facing them, now.

"Okay," Rusty agreed, "sure."

"Yeah," Emily cleared her throat, "I like that idea."

* * *

 **HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROSA!**

 **I'm officially out of confetti, but I do have birthday cake! (Don't worry, its internet cake so I didn't bake it, and it is, therefore, safe to consume.)**

 **Also, I apologize for breaking Sharon for your birthday present…and for not fixing her.**


End file.
